


Friendly Help

by The_Audacity



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Audacity/pseuds/The_Audacity
Summary: Uryuu needs help and Ichigo offers his.
Relationships: Ishida Uryuu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Kudos: 7





	Friendly Help

“What are you doing here, Kurosaki? I told you, I’m not going to see the movie with everyone today. Just go without me.”

Ishida’s tone was terse—terser than usual—and his face had a pinched quality to it that he always got whenever he was extremely uncomfortable or in pain. He was only holding the door open enough to peer through the crack, hiding most of his body from view. Ichigo started to worry he’d been injured somehow. There hadn’t been a surge of powerful Hollow reiatsu in weeks, as far as he knew, but that didn’t guarantee Ishida hadn’t been fighting.

“What’s wrong? It’s not like you to cancel plans last-minute.” Ichigo paused, then added, “Especially plans Inoue makes for us.”

Looking away, Ishida claimed, “Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t feel like going. I have…other things I need to do instead.”

“If nothing’s wrong, then why don’t you want to let me in?”

He frowned and retorted, “When do I ever want to let you in?” Annoyed, Ichigo pushed at the door and wasn’t surprised when Ishida pushed back to keep him out. Ichigo pushed harder. “Knock it off, Kurosaki! Take a hint and go away!”

“Not until you show me you’re not hurt.”

That surprised him. He asked, “What are you talking about? Of course I’m not hurt!”

“Then prove it! Let me see you and I’ll leave.”

Color rushed to Ishida’s cheeks. Whether it was anger, exertion from their shoving match, or something else, Ichigo wasn’t sure. All he knew was Ishida seemed more flustered by the second. He even stammered a little as he argued, “I don’t have to p-prove anything to you, just go away!”

That only made Ichigo more worried. Whatever it was making Ishida act this way, it was serious. There was no way Ichigo could leave before figuring it out.

“Look, Ishida,” he began in a solemn tone that suspended their battle over the door’s angle. “If you need help, I’m here. No matter what it is, just say the word and we’ll deal with it together.”

He blinked at Ichigo uncertainly, taken aback by the unexpected gravity of his vow. Finally, he relented, “It’s…not that serious, idiot. I don’t need your help.”

“So, something _is_ wrong?” Ichigo pressed.

“Yes, but—”

“Then let me help, damn it!”

Almost to himself, Ishida agitatedly muttered, “Why do you have to be so _stubborn_?”

Ichigo pointed to him, “Pot,” then to himself, “kettle.”

Ishida rolled his eyes but couldn’t argue the insinuation that they were both stubborn idiots.

“You don’t want to help this time, trust me.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere until you at least tell me what it is.”

“Fine,” he snapped, “your funeral,” and yanked open the door Ichigo was braced against so fast he lost his balance and fell forward into Ishida. They didn’t go sprawling to the floor like in some kind of slapstick anime, but they did body-check each other, and Ichigo quickly realized why Ishida had refused to open the door.

“Dude,” Ichigo said in that ‘what the hell, man?’ type of way guys used on each other.

“I know!” Crossing his arms, Ishida blushed and told the floor, “If you understand, then fucking _go_ already.”

“But…why?”

He gave Ichigo a sharp look softened by the deep pink tinting his face. “I don’t know, all right? It’s been like this for the past hour and I can’t get rid of it.”

“An _hour_?” That explained why he seemed so uncomfortable. “Shit. Did you try—”

“Of course I tried that! I-I’ve never been able to…”

Although Ishida was also unable to finish that supremely embarrassing and personal sentence, Ichigo made it worse by incredulously asking, “Really? _Never_ never?”

Sliding off his glasses to rub a hand over his face, Ishida sighed and asked, “Why are we even talking about this? Are you trying to humiliate me?”

“No,” Ichigo told him honestly.

“Then stop asking me stupid questions and let’s forget this ever happened.”

That was a very reasonable and wise suggestion, but Ichigo couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even if it was this sort of problem, Ichigo couldn’t abandon his friend in good conscience. Not if there was a way he could help.

He swallowed, glanced at the bulge in Ishida’s slacks, and locked gazes to try, “You know, they say…it feels way better if someone else does it for you.”

Silence swelled in the wake of that awkward observation. Ishida’s eyes widened slowly, like he was gradually winning the battle against his own disbelief in what he’d heard. His mouth fell open slightly but no words came out. Some quiet, bemused sound did instead, as if Ichigo’s offer was so bewildering there was no possible question that could attempt to clarify it.

Since Ishida wasn’t saying ‘hell no’ or screaming profanities, he took a tentative step closer. That seemed to startle him out of his stupor. He held up a hand and said, “Wait.” Not ‘stop’, Ichigo noted. “What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m thinking,” he replied, taking another step forward, “you have a problem and I can help…if you want.” Ishida was staring hard, as though Ichigo was suddenly speaking a foreign language. “If not, I’ll leave and we can forget this, like you said.”

“Are you seriously offering to—”

“Yeah. I am.”

Ishida broke eye contact and licked his lips as he considered his options. A clock on the wall beside them ticked loudly in the hush. Birds chirped songs of spring outside the open window. A cool breeze rustled the curtains, shadows and sunlight flickering on the floor.

After a long moment, he looked at Ichigo. And nodded.

He shut the door, following Ishida to the short couch and sitting next to him. They both shifted nervously, unsure how to start. Ichigo scooted closer. Ishida plucked open the button on his slacks and slowly slid down the zip. Not to make a show of it, but to keep from fumbling. His hands were shaking slightly. Ichigo rubbed his palms on his jeans and tried not to dwell on how weird the situation had become in such a short time. Then he reached into Ishida’s pants to loosely hold his dick.

Ishida gasped while Ichigo swore under his breath because it was hot and stiff as sun-soaked stone. He gave it a shallow tug and watched Ishida tense like he was ready to shoot any second. But he didn’t. Ichigo initiated a gentle, steady pace. Ishida’s hands clenched around the sides of the cushion under him. After a couple of minutes, he was breathing faster and sweating lightly. God, he already needed it so bad!

“Kurosaki,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, it feels good. Just…”

“Not good enough?”

Ishida didn’t answer, but made a noise in his throat like he was in distress. Ichigo had been there before. He knew how it felt to be so close to bursting he thought he’d go insane if he couldn’t come soon. There were too many nights he’d gotten back from Hollow hunting to take his body back from Kon, only to discover the little perv had been interrupted in the middle of masturbating. Obviously, a full-blown boner didn’t disappear just because the souls were swapped out of Ichigo’s body. What choice did he have but to finish the job?

He changed his pace and his grip on Ishida, thinking of the pressure and speed he liked for those times he wanted to get it over with quickly. Ichigo watched him bite his lip and tilt his head back against the cushion. His Adam’s apple rose and fell on a thick swallow, then on a smothered moan, and Ichigo felt his own dick respond to the imagery.

“I can’t!” Ishida cried and grasped his hand to stop its stroking. He was panting, flushed all over. Ichigo let go of his cock reluctantly. With conviction, Ishida explained, “If I could, I would have.”

“Maybe you’re too nervous?”

Considering that, he agreed, “Maybe.”

“I have an idea.” He waited attentively until Ichigo proposed, “We could try kissing.”

“Wouldn’t that make me _more_ nervous?”

“Not if you’re into it.”

Ishida was too desperate to debate anything. He just nodded again and mirrored Ichigo when he leaned closer.

The instant their lips touched, Ichigo decided he was very much into it. Even though their eyes were closed, it was like he could sense how Ishida was going to move his mouth, and how he wanted Ichigo to move his. They were so synchronized it was almost mesmerizing. He relaxed, easing into it, and felt Ishida do the same.

After a few minutes, he heard Ishida’s breathing change. Ichigo felt something warm and wet and opened his mouth wider to let it in. Ishida was Frenching him! A shiver shot down his spine at the revelation. Ichigo kissed him back just as sensuously, almost forgetting his main goal. But he remembered eventually and reached down to resume jerking Ishida off. He moaned into Ichigo’s mouth and gripped one of his shoulders tightly.

They kept kissing, Ichigo kept stroking, and Ishida still didn’t come.

He broke free from the kiss with a frustrated grunt and lamented, “This isn’t working!”

“What’s wrong?”

Gaze dropping to the reddened head of his erection, Ishida confessed, “It’s too sensitive now. Your hand feels rough.”

“Then I won’t use my hand.”

Before he could respond, Ichigo was already bending over his lap.

He licked Ishida’s dick once to gauge his reaction, and smirked to see him jump in shock. But he didn’t make a move to stop Ichigo from fitting his mouth over it, steadily sliding down. In fact, Ishida gave a low, tremulous groan like he was sinking into a sweltering bubble bath after a long day out in the cold. He cursed when Ichigo began bobbing up and down on his cock, and kept cursing until he was breathless.

Ishida’s thighs clenched and Ichigo reflexively massaged them. That earned another groan. Ishida’s toes curled against the floor and his pitch leaped up. He was going to explode any second! Enjoying himself for a couple of reasons, Ichigo went faster and tried to go even deeper. His own dick was throbbing hotly against his thigh, but not as bad as Ishida’s was against his tongue. Every time Ichigo heard him gasp or moan or swear, he thought that was it: Ishida’s climax had hit. But he just kept waiting.

His hand moved from holding Ichigo’s shoulder to touch fingertips to the side of his jaw, signaling for him to let up. When he raised his head, “It’s…no use,” Ishida said hoarsely. “It’s broken, or…something.”

He sounded so miserable and defeated that Ichigo felt a sympathy pang of sexual frustration. Seeing Ishida this way wasn’t helping, either, all desperate and aching. It strengthened his resolve to see the situation through to a satisfactory end.

“It’s not ‘broken,’ Ishida. We just haven’t figured out what you need.”

“What I need is a cold shower,” he argued. Then he thought about it and realized, “Although, a shower is what started this in the first place. I was just washing up after a run, but my mind was wandering to places I normally don’t let it go, and the soap…” He broke off, glancing at Ichigo self-consciously. “Well, you know.”

Yes, he did. Ichigo knew exactly how little stimulation it could take to start a fire he had no desire to deal with in that moment. Some days, he didn’t have a choice. Having a dick was a real hassle at times.

“There’s, um, something else we could try,” Ichigo carefully proposed. There was a fair chance Ishida would hurt him for saying it, but he’d heard, “P-prostate play is supposed to be really effective for this type of issue.” Ichigo was going for mature and confident, but the way he had stuttered and blushed totally ruined it. As an afterthought, he mumbled, “If you have lube, that is…”

Rather than get freaked out or call him an idiot again, Ishida answered just as awkwardly, “I have, uh, some coconut oil? In the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Ichigo acknowledged as his excitement and nervousness spiked. “We should probably move to your bed, though. More space to do…stuff.”

“Right. Then, I’ll just meet you in…”

“Yeah,” he agreed as Ishida pointed in the general direction of his bedroom. “I’ll grab the, um, oil.”

“Good.”

They sat there for another few beats, then both started to rise at the same time. Ichigo stopped and gestured for him to go first, then got up and walked over to the cupboard across the room. His heart was thudding so loudly in his chest, he almost expected to hear it echoing around the apartment. He found the glass jar of coconut oil easily enough, and peered at it in wonder. Was he really about to use it to stick his fingers _inside_ —

No. Best he not think too deeply on that. Ichigo was a man of action, anyway. Charge in and get shit done, that was his motto. Besides, Ishida had been suffering long enough without having to wait on him to wrap his head around this unusual scenario.

Ichigo walked into the bedroom, approaching Ishida where he stood near the bed. The way he turned toward Ichigo as soon as he was in view made him want to kiss Ishida again, so he did. He also reached his hand down to cup his friend’s erection, which hadn’t diminished at all in spite of their verbal fumbling. Ishida made a plaintive noise against his mouth when Ichigo squeezed it just a little, like he was begging without words. It was more than enough encouragement to continue.

He broke the kiss to ask, “Should we…take off our clothes?”

“ _Our_ clothes?”

“I mean! I just thought…you might not wanna be the only one who’s naked?” He saw some of the color drain from Ishida’s cheeks at that. “It’s fine if you’re not comfortable with—”

“No, Kurosaki, you’re right. It would be weird if it was only me.” Then he made a face and quietly added, “Weirder.”

Ichigo laughed weakly and agreed, “Yeah. Definitely _weirder_.”

They took off their shirts, watching each other as they did. Since the fly of Ishida’s slacks was already undone, Ichigo reached out and dropped the jar on the bed to use both hands to slide them over his hips. The material slipped past his thighs to crumple on the floor around his ankles. Ishida hesitated for a brief moment before unbuttoning the front of Ichigo’s jeans for him. He hesitated again once he realized what Ichigo had going on underneath his jeans. Ishida took a breath and licked his lips, but otherwise gave no reaction. He was careful with the zipper and pushed his jeans down the same way Ichigo had done for him. They stepped out of their pants and sank onto the bed in just their underwear.

Ishida gave a short hiss and retrieved the jar out from under his leg. “Cold,” he said, then offered it over.

It took Ichigo a second to accept it, because he was distracted by Ishida’s nearly nude body. “Hot,” he said, then blushed again and dragged his eyes back up to Ishida’s. “Sorry.”

He smiled a little, fighting it, and told Ichigo, “I had no idea you were…like me.”

“Same,” he admitted, fighting back his own smile. “Not even Inoue?”

Ishida shook his head as he lay back against the sheets. “More like Sado-kun.”

A startled bark of laughter couldn’t quite counteract how it stung to hear that. “You’ve got a crush on _Chad_?”

“Kidding.”

Ichigo reclined to rest beside him. Some combination of jealousy and curiosity had him asking, “So, he’s not who you were fantasizing about in the shower earlier?”

Instead of the guilty laugh he anticipated, Ishida looked away almost shyly and confirmed, “No. Not him.”

Setting a hand low on his waist to nudge the band of his boxers down, Ichigo interrogated, “Then who? Who does it for you like this, Ishida?” He purposely brushed his palm over the swollen head just to hear him gasp. “So bad you can’t go soft even with me talking your ear off and pawing at you like a—”

_Total virgin_ , he cut himself off just in time to avoid announcing. But by then, he was rubbing his thumb in just the right spot, making Ishida’s breath catch and his hips twitch up. He bit his lip and tossed his head to the side with a light groan. Ichigo swallowed the saliva rapidly filling his mouth and let go of his cock, knowing his teasing was only making it worse.

“Can we…talk about this _after_?” Ishida requested once he’d recovered enough to speak.

Because Ichigo felt kinda bad, he nodded and opened the jar. The pungently sweet scent of coconut exploded into the room. He dipped two fingers into it as Ishida kicked his boxers the rest of the way off. He bent his knee, bracing one foot against the bed, and slid the other leg between Ichigo’s thighs. That way, he could reach without Ishida having to scoot further back at all. It was economical, but also pretty erotic, and Ichigo had to ignore the way his hard-on got even harder for it.

He set the jar aside, mushing the ‘oil’ between his fingers, knowing it would melt as soon as it warmed a little. _Inside_.

“Oh, fuck,” Ichigo murmured as he reached down, past Ishida’s balls and behind until he felt the shallow crevice. It guided him in, and he gave a testing press. There wasn’t much resistance. Ichigo had to remind himself not to go too fast; Ishida was so horny by that point that most of his muscles weren’t going to tense up even for this sort of intrusion. That didn’t mean he needed to forge in blindly. Ichigo heard him struggling to control his breathing and waited for it to even out before pushing in a bit further. A moment later, he went for another dip of coconut and joked, “Hope you weren’t planning to use this jar for anything other than sexy stuff ever again.”

“Sexy stuff?” Ishida repeated with a quick laugh.

“Unless you think cupcakes are sexy. Or whatever you use this junk for.” Ichigo wasn’t really trying to be funny, but Ishida laughed again anyway. He loosened up even more, making way for two fingers. “Let me know when I—”

“ _Ah_ ,” he said in a higher pitch than normal. Ichigo watched his face and saw the way his eyes tilted back before his lashes fluttered shut. “Kurosaki. _There_.”

His stomach did a series of flips as he was treated to the vision of Ishida wiggling his hips as his cock jumped against his stomach. Ichigo could see his abs tightening, his back arching, release impending. His fingertips pressed and circled Ishida’s prostate, massaging but not prodding. He went faster, trying not to notice how Ishida’s nipples were at full attention, untouched. Ichigo wanted to give one a quick pinch but had a better idea at the last second.

He sucked on it instead.

Ishida took in a sharp breath and let out a surprised moan. His hand latched onto the back of Ichigo’s neck, keeping him right there because he _loved it_. But it still wasn’t enough. Ishida wasn’t coming, he was just wound up tighter than ever. Even with Ichigo’s fingers rubbing as fast as they could, his tongue swirling around and flicking a raw nipple. Still not enough.

Although he had to bend his arm a little awkwardly, he managed to get a grip on Ishida’s dick. He started pumping it without reservation and was mildly shocked to hear Ishida _whine_ as his entire body quaked. His grip on Ichigo tightened, his other hand curling into short hair.

Ishida gave a strangled grunt and clenched unbelievably around Ichigo’s fingers. Wet heat burst onto his sliding fist. Ishida had come at last! He—

He hadn’t come, Ichigo realized as he released the nipple he’d been torturing to look down. The fluid slicking his palm was clear, not milky, and Ishida’s erection was as stiff as ever.

Incredulously, Ichigo glanced up to find him wearing a strange expression. It was obvious Ishida had enjoyed what had just happened, but he was far from relieved. He was exasperated and pleased at the same time. He met Ichigo’s widened eyes and heaved a very weary sigh.

“Ishida, I…don’t know what else to do. The only thing we haven’t tried…” Ichigo blushed as Ishida looked straight at his crotch. “Not that I’m saying we should!”

“Even if,” he said slowly, “I wanted you to?”

For a moment, he could only gape. Then, just as slowly, he asked, “Do you want me to?”

Ishida stared at him. His eyes were so dark, something in them tugging at Ichigo from somewhere deep.

He broke the spell by teasing, “You think I’d let you touch me like this if I didn’t want to touch you, too?”

Ichigo laughed. “Well, when you put it like that.”

They got into position with him kneeling between Ishida’s spread thighs. Ichigo leaned forward until the backs of Ishida’s knees interlocked with the insides of his elbows. It was a nice fit, and he wondered whether he’d fit into Ishida even nicer. Only one way to find out, he thought as he lined up his dick with Ishida’s ass. At the last minute, he remembered to use more of the coconut oil on himself first. Then he looked at Ishida for the go-signal.

He looked right back at Ichigo and said, “Make me come, Kurosaki. _Please_.”

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned for the second time today.

He meant to go slowly, for Ishida’s sake, but he was so slick and ready for it that Ichigo slid home on a single thrust. The instant he was all the way inside, Ishida’s breath hitched audibly. He tensed up, made a worrying choked noise, and started coming all over his stomach and chest. Ichigo watched in fascination as his cock kept spurting thick white ropes over and over.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he said between gasps, and Ichigo’s hips started rocking all on their own.

Ishida groaned like he was dying, but his dick was still spasming. He was so tight around Ichigo that he couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure that he felt, but he wanted more. He kept fucking Ishida until he couldn’t hold back anymore, and spilled hot and sticky inside him.

When Ichigo moved to pull out, Ishida wouldn’t let him. He held Ichigo close, keeping him inside, and wiggled just a little. There was that pleasure-pain again, so intense for such a small motion.

“Ishida,” he breathed against his throat. “I’m—”

“I know,” Ishida said in a tone that proved he felt the same. “I know, Kurosaki, but I can’t…It just feels so fucking good to _finally…_ ”

“Okay. If you don’t wanna stop, we won’t stop.”

He nodded, throat working as he struggled to vocalize the gratitude that was written all over his face anyway. So, Ichigo kept moving. Slowly at first, then faster when he could manage it. Ishida was right there with him, sensitive but somehow not sated. Ichigo pushed his knees back toward his shoulders and found an angle that made Ishida claw at the sheets like a wild thing. He kept moaning and thrashing as Ichigo pounded into him as deep as he could, attacking his prostate like it was the one thing holding Ishida back from true relief.

Maybe it was. Because that targeted attack triggered Ishida’s second orgasm after just a couple of minutes. He shouted so loud that Ichigo had a split-second to worry about the neighbors before Ishida’s ass clamped down around him and succeeded in dragging Ichigo along after him. Unlike the first time, this climax completely wiped him out. He didn’t have the energy to even think about going for a third round. He barely thought to slip out of Ishida and flop beside him before all of his focus went to reveling in his extreme afterglow.

Ichigo forced his eyes open after a moment and found Ishida in a similar state of exhausted awe. He was still breathing heavily and covered in come. There was even a streak on the underside of his chin. Ichigo was stuck between thinking it was kind of funny and really hot. A bubble of pride swelled in his chest to know he had made Ishida feel so amazing he not only broke past his limit, but got utterly wrecked in the process.

As if sensing Ichigo’s attention on him, he opened his eyes and turned his head to meet Ichigo’s stare.

“Thank you,” he said with feeling. Ichigo took hold of his hand and Ishida smiled. “Would it be weird if I told you I had a feeling your dick was what I needed all along?”

Ichigo laughed. “Only if you think it’s weird that I _hoped_ my dick was what you needed.”

Shaking his head, Ishida said, “What’s truly weird is your dick sort of started all this in the first place.”

“Is that so?” he asked with one eyebrow arched. “Are you admitting you were thinking about me in the shower earlier?”

He admitted nothing, but his smirk said it all. He asked, “Think we could maybe…do this again sometime, Kurosaki?”

“Call me whenever you need me, Ishida. I’ll be right over to offer some ‘friendly help’ as many times as you want.”


End file.
